


Move over

by RussianWitch



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy morning smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move over

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd  
> Not really my usual style either come to think of it.  
> Still I wanted to do something with this pairing.

Newt wakes up to booming hisses and sub-vocal yelling that's almost more like growling than human speech coming out of Hannibal's throat intersected with cutting consonants and bitten off vowels.

Newt's sleep addled brain registers a familiar word here and there, along with words learned from drinking with the ChernoAlpha crew over the years and concludes that Hannibal is cursing someone out in Yiddish, again.

When he finds his glasses and can finally see more than blurs, Newt spots Hannibal leaning on the windowsill, ass barely covered by track pants but his trademark shades already hiding his eyes, talking on the phone and smoking a cigar.

Newt takes his time enjoying the sight as more and more brain cells start to fire. The bed is too damn comfortable to leave voluntarily and usually it does take a bit of prodding from Hannibal for Newt to start acting more or less as an adult but neither of them minds.

Hannibal turns noticing Newt awake and watching him finishes the call with a couple of creatively graphic threats. He leans back against the glass and takes a drag of his cigar watching Newt until he starts to squirm.

"Back in the land of the living?" Newt snorts at the question swallowing the temptation to point out that on weekends Hannibal is the one who can't be woken for anything but a fire before noon.

He flops onto his back jamming a pillow under his head so he doesn't have to strain to look up at Hannibal when tossing his cigar away he comes over to loom.  
The sunlight coming through the window turns the matted fur covering Hannibal's bare torso silver and obscures the faded tattoos scattered across his back, sides and arms.  
Hannibal makes short work of stripping the sheets off of the bed and Newt leaving him bare and on display.  
Newt doesn't waste time reaching out to grab at Hannibal's hip to pull him in.

"Something like thaaat," he fakes a moan, "you might have to give me some incentive." Hannibal chuckles kneeling on the bed between Newt's legs and before he's settled Newt is already slipping his hands into the track pants to grab at warm furry skin. Hannibal drops down, boxing Newt in with his body and bites at Newt's lips.

"Yeah? This work for ya?" Newt's hand gets pried off Hannibal's ass where it was enjoying itself and gets moved to the hard rod of Hannibal's dick already tenting the older man's pants. Newt mews his pleasure and agreement clawing the track pants off.

"Gimmy!" He whines between kisses and bites, licks at Hannibal's teeth until he had enough of the taste of the slick, cool metal.

Hannibal lets go of Newt's wrist and pushes it away, plunges his hand between Newt's thighs searching out his hole. Newt is still a little loose and a little slick from the night before. It's entirely possible that Newt could take Hannibal like that; no preparation at all but with care and patience. Another time he might suggest it, but this morning Newt reaches for the lube.  
Newt likes Hannibal's fingers up inside of him, the roughness of the callused fingertips and swollen knuckles against his slick sensitive insides. Hannibal curses as he works his fingers in, scissors and twists them until Newt is mewing as he sucks on Hannibal's tongue ready, fully open and needy.  
Their glasses clank when their frames bump, but they are too caught up in each other to bother getting rid of them.

Newt reluctantly gets go of Hannibal's ass when the man sits up to get them positioned; throw Newt's knees over his arms and push the track pants further out of the way. Hannibal stays that way for several moments that seem to last forever, in Newt's eagerness to be penetrated, looking down on Newt with such intensity that he has to wonder what it is Hannibal is trying to see. 

Newt isn't sure that one day Hannibal won't find whatever he's looking for and Newt will be thrown out on his ass. He hopes the day is a long time in coming, but guys like him can never be sure can they?

When Hannibal finally eases inside of him, it's slow and steady filling him up while folding him in half. In the end Newt is bent in half covered by Hannibal's bulk his dick getting rubbed raw against the coarse fur on Hannibal's abdomen.

The room is filled with sounds of flesh slapping flesh, soft grunts and gasps but no words, nothing deliberate. If one of them feels the urge to speak the other is fast to swallow the words before they manage to leave the tongue.

Once he gets going Hannibal isn't exactly gentle, not that he's rough exactly, not during a lazy morning fuck, but he doesn't bother to reign himself in. Newt can take it, wants to take it even; if he couldn't stand rough he wouldn't have even tried hitting on a damn gangster.

Not that there was much 'hitting on'.  
After the parties died down and the clean up got started Newt had been the only person who had had any contact with Hannibal Chau and had become the liaison to the black marketer by default because Marshall Hansen still needed Hannibal and his money. Somehow the liaising had turned into fucking when no one was looking. Not like Newt got deliberately seduced, or tripped Hannibal and beat him to the ground or anything like that. Just an itch that needed to be scratched and someone who understood on hand and their tendency to try to get the last word in no matter the conversation.

Newt wraps his arms around Hannibal's neck, arches up to plaster himself fully against the broad chest. Hannibal's mouth is on the hollow of Newt's throat; it seeks out one of the few empty spots on Newt's skin to leave his mark there.  
Newt thinks that if this, whatever this thing is, lasts he might get Hannibal's mark there just for completeness sake. 

Thoughts about anything but how much he needs just a little something extra to come become difficult as Hannibal speeds up almost corkscrewing himself into Newt chasing his own release. Newt digs his nails in, scratches at Hannibal's back opening fresh scratches and irritating the ones he's left the evening before. Hannibal's hand finds Newt's ass, thick fingers trace the place where they are connected before a nail catches on the oversensitive rim of Newt's ass then pushes his way in stretching him out even more. 

Newt lets out a soundless whine, throws his head back and digs his nails in further. Hannibal bites him again and he's done, he's watching fireworks behind his eyelids his body shaking and spasming, milking Hannibal's orgasm out of him as well just as he starts coming down.

The finger disappears from Newt's ass allowing Hannibal to brace himself properly and snap his hips hard enough to leave bruises. By the time he's done Newt is oversensitive and ready for another nap.

Hannibal rolls off him leaving only an arm across Newt's waist to pin him down against the sweaty and dirty sheets and Newt wonders if it's just laziness on Hannibal's part or possessiveness.  
He finds himself examining the older man's face carefully instead of going to sleep, somehow they have both managed to keep their glasses from flying off their faces and as usual Newt cannot see Hannibal's eyes; can't read the man properly. 

He's learning to live with the uncertainty, but occasionally; usually when he is alone back at the Shatterdome the uncertainty turns into anxiety and Newt spends the night pacing the corridors trying to get away from his thoughts.

"Stop thinking, you're killing my buzz." Hannibal rumbles in his ear then traces the shell of it with his tongue.

"I should get going..." Newt hedges makes a weak attempt to get away and finally get out of bed or at least get out of the wet spot.

"Why? Marshall Hansen that much of a ball buster?" There is an angry edge under the rumble when Hannibal says the name like he isn't pleased with the new commander of the PPDC for some reason. 

"No, but I don't want to get in your way." Newt admits because avoiding the issue might mean that Hannibal decides to sort things out his own way...and Newt can't have that happening.

"Ain't in the way, if you bothered me I would have tossed you out long ago." Hannibal tells him finally leaving Newt's ear alone and pulling up his pants.

Once more or less decent, Hannibal reaches for the antique phone on the bedside table and calls the kitchen in search of breakfast. The evidence that Hannibal has waited with breakfast until Newt is awake sends a shiver of pleasure down Newt's spine. 

"So is that just for today...or?" He can't help asking when Hannibal puts the phone down again. Newt doesn't expect to be grabbed and pulled over to straddle Hannibal's waist. He yelps grabbing at Hannibal's broad shoulder to keep his balance staring down at Hannibal's face and wondering what the hell is going on.

"For a genius, you're an idiot professor." Hannibal sighs pulling off his shades and Newt is looking down at one brown and one red and white eye. He realizes that he's seen the sight often enough, despite Hannibal's best efforts, that the scarring doesn't shock him any longer.

"For not wanting to be underfoot? Man, people back at the dome would pay for me to do them the same courtesy!" He sulks confused by the amusement and fondness he can read in Hannibal's gaze.

"You're not underfoot if you're invited." Hannibal points out his big hands petting Newt's flanks and ass while Newt tries to resist the urge to stretch himself out on the furry body under him.

"Yeah but..." A vague semblance of social skills emerges from the depths of Newt's mind like a Kaiju from the abyss, and he can't bring himself to point out that they've already fucked...Hannibal sighs dramatically almost buckling Newt off. He wraps a hand around the back of Newt's head forcing him down until they are nose to nose. 

"I want you here moron! And not just to screw your Kaiju tattoo covered ass or have you help the goons with working out how to clone the merchandise." Hannibal enunciates the words slowly like he's talking to a child or possibly a mental patient and finishes the declaration with a hard squeeze of Newt's ass. "I'm not a fan of all the touchy feely crap kid, but I like you and I don't mind you around even when you drive me crazy." The words send warm shivers down Newt's body, his stomach turns into knots as his hands tighten on Hannibal's shoulders.

"So I can stay?" He asks just to be really, completely certain.

"You can move in as far as I'm concerned. It would make it easier on your guards not having to camp out outside of the dome every night." Hannibal shrugs dragging the sheet over Newt's lap just in time to cover him up before the door opens and two maids with breakfast trays come in. They bow, short sharp almost nods before pulling out a low table and setting the trays next to the bed.

Newt sways towards the covered plates battling the twin attractions of food and Hannibal's full attention. The sort-of-maybe invitation keeps spinning in his head as he sways between the trays and Hannibal.

Hannibal snorts sitting up, Newt ends up in his lap fighting with the sheet it's on the floor in a messy heap. He tries to slide off of Hannibal's lap to make breakfast a more civilized affair but gets pulled back.

"Sit still already!" Hannibal grumbles pulling the lids off the trays with his free hand to examine the offering.

"What you're going to feed me? Grown up already I can do it myself." To demonstrate the point he reaches out to pop a piece of apple into his mouth. Hannibal snorts and manhandles Newt until they can both reach the food but accepts a piece of apple when Newt offers it grazing Newt's fingertips with his teeth. It sets the tone for the rest of breakfast; Hannibal holding him his chin resting on Newt's shoulder so that he can nuzzle at Newt's ear between bites and Newt feeding them both. 

"So you really want me to move in?" Newt can't help asking half way through the meal. 

"Yeah, would be easier all around. Tell the Marshall to shove it, won't have to go half way 'cross town for a fuck...And I won't have to constantly redo the inventory because someone can't resist stealing Kaiju guts..." Newt has the decency to blush at the accusation. He'd hoped Hannibal didn't notice him borrowing a few bits and pieces here and there, but apparently he did and hadn't minded.

"You're awesome." Newt crows twisting around until he can kiss Hannibal properly. He has to suppress the urge to jump up at once and go gather his stuff, but Hannibal's lap is comfortable and it's been quite a while since Newt has been able to enjoy this kind of closeness with someone. 

"Yeah I am." Hannibal acknowledges smirking into Newt's kisses.


End file.
